


Necessary Insanity

by Airrah11



Category: Batman - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Multi, Polyamory, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-02-06 15:05:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12820116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airrah11/pseuds/Airrah11
Summary: '"You know," Louisa said, "this house is quite poisonous to the mind. I daresay all who have been here go a little mad trying to escape it or burn it to the ground."' Steve/OC/Bucky. Poly. Triad. Soulmates/marks. Will focus on Marvel, but at the beginning features DC primarily (specifically a comic called Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth)





	1. Part One, Chapter One

A/N: Hey all! So this particular story will begin based off the canon comic Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth. It is by far my favorite comic of all time and as I have an edition with a script I decided to create this little orgy of evil with our fave heroes thrown in. Yes, this is a Batman/Avengers/Captain America Crossover, but I am not labeling it as Batman at the moment because outside of part one, it will be more Avengers/CA oriented. No, you do not have to have any knowledge of Batman to read this, its just a bit more fun if you do. As always, leave any comments/opinions/questions in the reviews, I'll PM you any answers as long as they're under any account names. Please FAVE, FOLLOW, and (!) .REVIEW. (!) Enjoy!

Part 1: A Serious House on Serious Earth

Harriet looked down from the balcony of the asylum with a content smile on her face. Her nephew, Jeremiah, was walking amongst the hostages taking notes on their conditions, his furious scribbling only a drawing of more plans to make the asylum better.

Joker was dancing around the foyer with a phone fiddled in his hand, his crazed voice spewing demands to Gotham's finest. Harriet smiled and played her pen between two fingers absently as she watched her favorite inmate shout and whisper and tease and so on. Joker was amazing to watch and she wished her other experiments could turn out as well as he had.

In her current body, she was known as Jeremiah's niece, another doctor at Arkham that had turned to the darker side. She had been careful though, and no one knew of her experiments, the only crimes they were aware of were in actuality her moments of stress relief with her trusty scalpel that she kept capped behind her ear.

The inmates had taken over the asylum with her help, capturing almost a hundred hostages in the process. Only seventy remained now as the dead were on the roof, spelling out 'don't be naughty!' in a grave sort of way.

The idiots that called themselves guards were the ones to die, and she thought that it was quite deserved. Making a mockery of her father's desires like this, to not even try to keep up the guise of good security.

Of course, the gardener had been the next to go, because God, white roses surrounded by yellow tulips? Atrocious.

"We want the man-bat!" Joker cried and Harriet sighed.

"Joker, I have someone else in mind for you to add." She stated and the clown placed a hand over the phone.

"We want Captain America!" she cried, her smile wide and her eyes dark.

The women in the asylum rapidly nodded their heads and agreed, even some of the hostages swooned at the idea.

The hostages weren't really hostages if she were honest. Most of them were under her thumb, while the rest were doctors too devoted to their work.

Bad work, if she were honest.

Joker smiled at her and released the phone, holding it up to the ceiling, circling around the room.

The groups of inmates and hostages chanted, sometimes absently, "We want Captain America!"

Harvey shook his head, his deck of card exploding around him as he began to cry.

"You heard it, Jimmy! Those are our demands! Better hurry up because Miss Marjorie's pretty green eyes are looking like they'll look even better as pendants!"

He slammed down the phone with a sigh, "Someone clean Two-face up! He's shit himself again!"

Harvey's cries picked up in strength. Harriet sighed.

"Come now, we can't have this place looking a mess when our guests join us, can we?" She trailed off into her thoughts.

She turned her back on the groups the floor below and made her way to her lab in the attic. Sharky was getting hungry, Marjorie would do quite nicely.

Steve was with Sam when he got the call. They were on a morning run in Central Park when his phone rang and he picked it up.

A man was on the other end of the line. Steve didn't recognize his voice, but something about him seemed familiar almost.

"Captain, you are needed in Gotham. My name is Alfred Pennyworth and I have been tasked with asking for your help when it comes to the mutiny at Arkham Asylum." The man's voice was calm and even, but even Steve knew that this was grave if they were reaching out for someone other than the city's infamous 'Batman'.

But his thoughts were torn elsewhere at the mention of the man's name.

"Alfred? You didn't happen to be Jenson's brother, are you?" Steve asked and the man let out a long sigh.

"Yes, sir, I am unfortunately. But back to the task at hand, at the behest of Commissioner Jim Gordon to my master, Bruce Wayne, I have called to ask for your help."

Steve nodded even though the man couldn't see it. Sam narrowed his eyes at him.

It was a week since Bucky had pulled him out of the water and three days since he got out of the hospital. They were already searching for his metal armed soulmate, but the tide was turning cold, quickly.

Steve let out a breath, "What's the situation?"

Alfred let out another sigh, "All of the inmates at Arkham have taken over the asylum and they asked for Batman and uh… the women asked for you. The hostages and some of the inmates. Our technology detected about seventy hostages and almost a hundred and seventy inmates. Not all of them are violent, but most of them are and since Batman locked the rest of his main adversaries away… All of Gotham's demons are ready to play."

Steve met Sam's eyes, "I'm on my way, but I'm bringing a friend."

Alfred sighed for a last time, "As long as they can sneak in undetected, I'm sure you'll find a way."

They hung up.

Steve turned to Sam, "What's the weather like in Gotham?"

Sam scoffed, "That shithole? It's a void about fifty miles away from New York. No one goes there if they can avoid it."

Steve grinned and patted him on the shoulder. "Suit up, we've been called in to help the city's revered vigilante."

Steve let out a breath as he pulled up to the Asylum's gates where a dozen of Gotham's finest were guarding. The Asylum was perched on a hill about a dozen miles from anything but forest all around, the nearest thing being a run down nuclear waste facility. You could spot the city below in the distance, even through the fog that seemed to be permanent around the gates. He stepped out of the car, spotting the curtains move in the window closest to the roof.

Steve tapped his ear, "Sam?"

Sam responded from his position in the sky above the asylum.

"Cap, my God." His voice was horror filled and Steve looked down at his phone as a picture appeared on screen.

About a dozen or more mutilated corpses were rotting in the open air, their uniforms telling him that this was what had happened to the security on the grounds. They were arranged to spell out something, but it didn't really matter out what at this point.

He approached the man with the phone, the man placing it down when he spotted Steve.

He was a greying man who looked worse for the wear and probably older than he actually was. He stuck out his hand.

"Captain, my name is Jim Gordon, I'm the commissioner."

He felt a breeze pass by his shoulder, he turned, still taking the man's hand. A man in a bat suit was standing beside him, a black cape flowing out behind him. His suit was heavily armored and top of the line, with an array of weapons at his hip.

"Sorry I'm late, Commissioner, Captain. Problems out of town. What's up?"

"There's been a riot at Arkham Asylum, that's what's up." Jim said. "The inmates seized control of the building early this morning, we don't know how it happened. They're holding the Asylum staff hostage, making all kinds of crazy demands."

His eyes trailed to Steve, "We've had to send in furniture, store dummies, food, clothing…"

Batman sighed, "And?"

"They say there's only one final demand, thank god. They've been wanting to talk to you two personally." Jim drawled with a sigh that spoke volumes.

"I see," The vigilante muttered.

"Batman," the Commissioner stated, "Neither of you has to go in there. We can have the whole place bombed if necessary, the hostages appear to be willing, and it doesn't seem that-"

A scream came from one of the officers and they followed his pointed hand to the corpse of a woman hanging from the roof by a noose. Her torso had been carved open and all of her organs were missing, the skin still intact and flapping behind her in the wind. Something was hanging from her nec-

"God Almighty." Steve breathed and another cop vomited not too far off.

The phone rang.

Jim put it on speaker.

"Why helloooooo, Commissioner! As you can seeeee, you took too much time and well, we have a shark to feed and well- I just couldn't resist making such pretty necklaces!" A crazed man raved and Jim let out a growl, but Batman placed a hand over his shoulder to keep him quiet.

Batman spoke up, "Joker! Are you there? What do you want?"

"Well, helllllooooo, Big Boy! How's it hanging?"

"Don't waste my time, Joker. Just tell me what it is you want."

There was another bout of laughter, "I think you can guess… we want you and your star spangled pal, in here, with us, in the madhouse! Where you belong."

Batman took a breath, "And if we say no?"

There was a scratching sound over the receiver.

"Well… we have so many friends here, sweetheart. Say hello to Pearl."

"Oh Buh-Bat-Bat- ohhhh…" A woman's voice was heard and then it was gone. She was sobbing.

"Such a crybaby isn't she?" The Joker drawled before more scratching was heard.

"What's that noise? Can you hear it? Scratching…" Jim trailed, "What's he doing?"

"Pearl is nineteen years old."

More scratching.

"She just started working in the kitchens to earn some extra money. Pearl wants to be an artist. Don't yah Pearl?"

Another sob was heard followed by again, more scratching.

"She just drew me a beautiful house. She drew it with this pencil."

SCRIT!

"The one I've just sharpened. Open your eyes wide, Pearl! Beautiful. Blue. Oh."

"Jesus no!" Batman yelled into the phone.

"You have half an hour. And bring a white stick." The Joker hung up.

"Oh, Jesus. That poor girl. Batman… I…" Jim seemed lost for words.

"I'm going in there." Batman breathed turning to Steve, "Are you?"

"Absolutely." Steve responded without pause.

"Jim, can we talk?" Batman turned to Jim and the older man nodded.

"You okay? You know you don't have to go in there. Let me organize a SWAT team or something." The Commissioner seemed tired, so very, very tired.

"No, this is something I have to do."

"Look," Jim said, "I can understand if even you're afraid. I mean, Arkham has a reputation…"

Steve wondered how bad a place this must be. He regretted not looking into it more.

He stepped away from the men and looked up toward the night sky. Sam was shielded from view but he still heard him breathing over the com in his ear.

He took a breath and stepped back to the men, knowing by their silence that they were done.

Batman redialled and spoke quickly.

He looked at Steve and Steve nodded. "We're coming in Joker, release the hostages."

The Joker let out a stream of cackles and the doors to the Asylum slammed open, only three dozen of the hostages coming out.

"You heard him folks! Hit the trail!"

The Joker appeared briefly, petting a brunette woman softly, "Bye Pearl. Let's do it again sometime!"

She walked away hollowly, her cheeks tearstained.

Batman let out a breath, "But what about her eyes? You said…"

The Joker let out a cackle.

"APRIL FOOLS! Ha ha ha hahahahahahahahahahaha!"

He took a loud breath, "Cheer up, honey pie! Listen, how many brittle bone babies does it take to-"

"Shut up." Batman growled.

"Oooh! At home to Mr. tetchy, are we? Loosen up, tight ass!" The Joker giggled, grabbing the man bat.

"Take your filthy hands off me!" Batman growled once more.

"What's the matter? Have I touched a nerve? How is the boy wonder? Started shaving yet?"

"Filthy degenerate!"

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Batty Crocker!"

"You're in the real world now and the lunatics have taken over the asylum. April, Sweet is coming in!" Joker cried as he entered.

They could hear him laughing from the inside, but the doors quickly slammed shut again.

He peeked his head out once more.

"Don't keep us waiting boys! Batsy knows what happens when we get bored!"

Steve took a breath and they broke through the doors.

"Come in! Come in! It's not often we have guests! We will be on our best behavior for guests, right Two-face?" A bald man crooned from a chair, singing his words.

A weeping moan flowed through the air next and they slid inside the madhouse, determined to put an end to it all.

Harriet walked down the stairwell, her tennis shoes squeaking shrilly into the air, her coat billowing around her as their guests entered. Her outfit had been exactly where she left it, sure it was covered in a little more blood than she'd able to ever get out, but that didn't matter as she scanned the guests.

Joker kept them busy as she slid to the bottom of the steps, stepping aside to reveal her to them, his cackling picking up as he began to dance around the room once more, humming demented carousel music under his breath.

"Hello, Batman. What a pleasure it is to see you once more! I dare say you look like you've put on weight. All muscle, I'm sure." She greeted, twirling her pen between her fingers again and again.

Batman's eyes narrowed on the scalpel still capped behind her ear but he did nothing only letting out a guttural, "Dr. Arkham, I'd say it was a pleasure, but it would be a lie."

Captain America's eyes roamed over her, noting the odd outfit she wore (her old cheerleading outfit from her most recent high school experience), and the lab coat. A confused look was in his eyes and she sent him a smile. She held out her hand, sighing when he didn't take it.

She pushed a white blonde curl behind her ear and took in his baby blue eyes and golden tan, the way he held himself. Cautious, open, but ready to fight.

She liked fighters. It made her job more fun, though for what she had planned for him, that didn't really matter.

"Ma'am? Are you a doctor here?"

She stilled at his words, the way in which he spoke them. She resumed her movements quickly though, denying herself any real reaction.

A flash of her original body, of the words that were written upon them. Two sets, but one vocalized just now before her. She weighed her words carefully, though it hardly mattered.


	2. Part One, Chapter Two

A/N: Another chapter for ya'll. Please leave any questions under accounts in the comments and I will reply via PM. Please FAVE, FOLLOW, and (!) .REVIEW. (!). Enjoy :)

"Well, Captain. I am both hostess and prisoner since this is also my family home."

He stilled at her words, his eyes widening before her. He crossed his arms, his hand unintentionally covering his marks over his chest even though they were already covered by his gear.

She smiled at him again, her jade green eyes warm and teasing. Her platinum blonde hair was tied up in a smart bun at the tops of her head, a few loose curls framing her face perfectly. He caught sight of the… pen behind her ear and his eyes caught on it for a moment.

He swallowed and looked away at the hostages.

Batman was walking around the room, scanning all of them in the large den of sorts. They all looked fine, maybe a little tired and hungry but fine.

The room was slightly ostentatious and more like a mansion's than anything else. Elaborate paintings decorated the walls and leather couches and chairs were strewn all about, some at odd angles. The room was decorated in party streamers and balloons and the occasional flashing light. The balloons were chaotic looking, their messages worrying and erratic.

'Take! Take! Take!' one read, 'millions of robins!' another. Banners were strewn over the doorways:

'Einstein was wrong! I'm the speed of light crackling through shivery atoms and God the sky whirls and withers like a melting rainbow!' read the one leading to the den, another reading 'Oh Daddy, make him stop! He's hurting me! The dog's hurting me!' hung over the dining room entrance where tables fool of inmates in party hats and bows and costumes were splayed out among tables full of tea cups and chipped plates.

"So welcome to the FEAST OF FOOLS!" Joker sang, skipping around the room merrily, a top hat perched atop his head.

Batman looked aghast at the hall, appalled.

Two inmates, both male, were kissing with demented abandon over a plate of tea cakes, a security guard slumped dead hanging off the chandelier. Another balloon was caught between his fingers.

'Father Dear Father I have to confess'

A nurse hung by one ankle from the ceiling. Her throat has been slit and as she turned slowly, like some grotesque decoration, her blood dripped onto a tiered wedding cake. Another inmate, glancing around himself absently, smeared bloody cake over his face, licking at the crimson frosting. A security guard (god, another?) stands still, supported by ropes against the wall with tears running down his face. His expression was bland, as if all that he had been was eradicated when he witnessed the horrors committed here.

It was sickening, and Steve swallowed down bile at the sights. He had never seen something so horrible, so awful, so… evil, as the scene in front of him.

'Now it's time to join the club that's made for you and me!'

'Some say God is an Insect!'

'Charlotte Corday! Charlotte Corday! Charlotte Corday!'

He glanced at Batman to see the cowled man's lips curl in disgust.

He knew only horror was pasted on his own face.

A huge shaven-headed man sat watching television in the living room. He looked inbred, a victim born out of incest. Saliva ran down his malformed chin, he smiled faintly, stupidly, clutching a rag doll to his breast almost lovingly. The doll was missing chunks of hair and her dress was in tatters, her face painted into a sinister grin like the Joker's own.

'Dirt everywhere! Christ look at it! Dirt! Dirt!'

'Dead in a bath'

'Who killed Bambi?"

"Emm Eye SEA Kay Ee Wye'

"I believe God is in Man'

The shaven-headed man watched the television, utterly engrossed.

"Well… a boy's best friend is his mother…" the TV sputtered out.

Batman walked in front of the television obscuring the shaven-headed man's view.

"Teevee, Teevee," the man muttered before lashing out and surprising the caped crusader.

"TEE,VEE!" he bellowed, throwing the bat across the room and into a table.

The table crashed, food and drink scattered, a clown man dripping wet, while another man wore a wedding dress are startled. Rorschach test cards flew into the air before crashing down to earth.

"Unnh," Batman moaned and Steve wandered to the vigilante, Dr. Arkham following. The Joker leaned over him, the clown man rising up as well, thunderously angry.

"I think he likes you." Joker whispered teasingly.

The angry clown man cried out, "Joker, I've had enough of this madness!"

"Now, now, Cavendish, don't go disturbing the peace!" Dr. Arkham cried out beside Steve.

Joker reached out and pinched the man's cheeks like one would a baby's. Cavendish was near purple he was so angry, but thanks to his garb, he looked simply ludicrous and not to be taken seriously.

"Enough madness? Enough? And how do you measure madness? Not with rods, and wheels, and clocks, surely?" Joker mused, "You know you look so pretty when you're mad."

The Joker pulled Cavendish toward him, pouting and fluttering his eyelashes like some sort of flirty dame. Cavendish tried to pull away, he tugged at the Joker's fingers, attempting to free them from the fabric of his clown suit.

"Kiss me, Charlie! Ravish me!" Joker cried before stilling.

He looked wistful for a moment, before waving a finger in front of the man's eyes, "But no tongues, y'hear? Not on our first date."

"I'm warning you..." Cavendish growled

The Joker pushed Cavendish heavily back into a seat and brought his face nose to nose with Cavendish's face. He appeared to inspire fear in the formerly angry man.

"You're in no position to issue warnings, Charlie. Not with your guilty secret." he intimidated, "Now sit down and stay down before I think of something funny to do with you."

The man in the wedding dress helped Batman to his feet, he lit a cigarette and looked apologetic at the cowled man. He turned his head with a nod to acknowledge the sorry bride.

"Well, we insisted on staying, Batman. I'm Adam Adams. I'm a psychotherapist here." The dressy man declared.

The Joker leaned over behind Cavendish, teasing his thinning hair. Cavendish sat with arms folded over his chest, stoically, stubbornly.

"And this is dear old Doc Cavendish, our current administrator. A man who just loves to administer current to ECT patients! Eh, Charlie?" The Joker introduced manically.

"I have a duty to the state. I will not leave this asylum in the hands of madmen!" The clownishly dressed man declared in his seat.

The Joker lost interest in Cavendish and turned to look at the floor. Fastidiously, he lifted a foot off the wet floor where he found himself standing.

"And while we're discussing duty, it looks like someone's done theirs on the floor!" The Joker cried.

Steve's eyes caught again, but this time on a distraught patient who was crying and moaning.

The Joker leaned over a table set aside from the others. Two-face, formerly Harvey Dent, sat there confused and distracted. A spread of tarot cards was laid out on the table before him, but he'd used the remainder to build a house of cards, it's construction further along. He rubbed the side of his head as though the action would kick-start his sanity. It didn't.

He seemed pitiable, feeble, weak.

"Oh Jesus, Harvey! Is it you again?" The Joker cried out distraughtly.

"Are you trying to ruin my shoes?"

"I'm sorry… I couldn't help it… It takes so long to decide… so many options… I'm really sorry." Two-face moaned.

The Joker turned and raised his hand, resembling a clown dressed schoolboy. Two-face seemed to be lost in his thoughts however and didn't hear what was going on around him.

"I think." he muttered.

"Please Miss! Two-face has pissed himself again!"

Batman looked to Adams standing next to him.

"How are you treating him? He seems far worse than when I dropped him here months ago."

Adams sighed at his words.

Batman turned to Two-face. "Two-face?"

Adams sighed, "Excuse me, Batman, but we'd really prefer it if you call him Harvey Dent by his real name."

"Adam," drawled from beside Steve and the air seemed to chill at her tone.

"Your little break through with Harvey… will not be tolerated if he cannot even make simple decisions."

"You mean like going to the bathroom, doc? Looks like we need to invest in diapers, cuz he's also shit himself again!" Joker sang from the staircase balcony.

Two-face looked sad as he picked up a card, The Lovers, he placed it on top of his tower. Batman watched, his lips a grim line and his eyes dark.

"What have you done to him?" He questioned Adams.

Adams appeared clueless, "Done? He's being cured, this place is a hospital, Batman, and we're here to treat people, in case you'd forgotten."

Steve scoffed, "Your… establishment is infamous for being faulty, doctor."

Adams ignored him. He held up Two-face's silver dollar. He blew smoke in Batman's direction and the cowled man waved it away irritably. Steve knew the vigilante had no love for the wedding dressed man.

"As a matter of fact, we've successfully tackled Harvey's obsession with duality. I'm sure your familiar with this silver dollar- scarred on one side, unmarked on the other. He used to make all of his decisions with this, as though it somehow represented the contradictory halves of his personality.

He became animated as he talked about his work.

"What we did was wean him off the coin and onto a die, that gave him six decision options instead of the former two. He did so well on the die that we moved him onto a pack of tarot cards. That's seventy eight options open to him batman. Next we plan to introduce him to I-Ching. Soon, he'll have a completely functional judgmental facility that doesn't rely so much on black and white absolutes."

Two-face laboriously placed the Fool into position on his house of cards. Batman watched him, obviously unimpressed by what Adams had just told him. Adams took another puff of his cigarette.

"But right now, he can't even make a simple decision, like going to the bathroom, without consulting the cards? Seems to me, you've effectively destroyed the man's personality doctor."

There was a look of misery on the attractive side of Two-face as he lifted another card off the wooden table. It's the Tower this time.

"Sometimes we have to pull down in order to rebuild, Batman. Psychiatry's like that." Adams drawled and Steve scoffed again.

He recalled how that felt, a flash of when he had been dragged out of the ice came mind and a cold doctor trying to deconstruct him came to mind.

"You must admit it's hard to imagine this place being conducive to anyone's mental health."

Adams gave a wry smirk, "You're going to hit me with all the local folklore now, right? Secret passages, the ghost of mad Amadeus Arkham, the wall that's supposed to bleed. Gothic crap."

"Well you'll pardon me for saying, but your techniques don't seem to have had much effect on the Joker."

Adams became serious at the mention. He removed the cigarette from his mouth, releasing a puff of smoke.

"The Joker's a special case. Some of us feel that he may be beyond treatment. In fact, we're not even sure if he can be properly defined as insane."

Adams ground his bud into a neighboring ashtray that had seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"He claims to be possessed by Baron Ghede, the Voodoo Loa this week. We're beginning to think it may be a neurological disorder, similar to Tourette's Syndrome."

Adams peered at the Rorschach test cards that laid scattered on the floor. Batman straightened.

"It's quite possible that we may be actually be looking at some kind of super-sanity here. A brilliant new modification of human perception. More suited to Urban life at the end of this century…" Adams admitted, trailing off.

Adams crouched down and began to gather together the scattered test cards. Batman folded his arms, ready for a fight as he adopted a more defensive stature. Steve recognized it immediately, having already adopted it himself. He felt Dr. Arkham relax beside him- he hadn't noticed her stiffen.

Adams ignored the man-bat.

"Tell that to his victims." Batman grumbled out.

"Unlike you and I, the Joker seems to have no control over the sensory information he's receiving from the outside world. He can only cope with that chaotic barrage of input by going with the flow." Adams ground out softly.

He fixed Batman with a cool and measured gaze.

"That's why sometimes he's a mischievous clown, others a psychopathic killer. He has no real personality."

He shuffled the cards neatly on a table. The Joker's shadow fell on him, though he remained unaware of his approach. No one warned Adams.

"He creates himself each day. He sees himself as the Lord of Misrule and the World as a Theatre of the Absurd." Adams drawled.

He became startled as the man he spoke of snatched a card out of his hands.

"We… Aah!..."

"Card games, Doctor Adams?" You know me, I just adore card games!" he cheered.

Batman sat down on a worn out leather chair, looking at the Joker with baleful eyes. Cheerfully, the Joker regarded the Rorschach card, one hand stroking his chin in a thoughtful gesture.

"Well… I see two angels screwing in the stratosphere, a constellation of black holes, a biological process beyond the conception of man, and… a jewish ventriloquist act locked in the trunk of a red chevrolet… What about you, Batman?"

Joker held up the Rorschach card, a smirk plastered on his sinister face.

"What do you see?"

Steve was really starting to hate the clown, but Dr. Arkham simply sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. He noted the freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks as she pulled her hand away.

"Nothing, I don't see anything." Batman grumbled.

The Joker leaned in and leered into Batman's ear. A pair of brothers pointed at the man-bat, bound together by electrical cords like some sort of twisted siamese twins. One of them was shouting angrily, impassioned. His brother was calm and rational on the other hand. Another man hung around, masked by darkness.

"Not even a cute little long-legged boy in swimming trunks?" Joker teased, his voice lilting and merry.

"Stop wasting time, you ugly, prancing bastard!" One of the brothers sneered.

"He is ours too, you know!" His brother shouted.

The dark figure stepped forward as if to make his own wishes known like a spectre.

"I say we take off his mask. I want to see his real face." The spectre leered.

The Joker hissed at him, irritable. He seemed tired of his fellow inmates, as if he couldn't believe their lack of imagination.

"Oh, don't be so predictable, for Christ's sake! This is his real face."

He cocked his head and stroked his chin thoughtfully once more. He appeared to be sizing his enemy up as though wondering whether or not to buy him.

"And I want to go much deeper than that. I want him to know what it's like to have sticky fingers pick through the dirty corners of his mind." The Joker mused, coming up behind Adams and gripping his shoulders with claw like hands. Adams shot him an apprehensive, sidelong glance.

"So let's start with a word association test, shall we? Addie?"

Adams looked down at Batman. He sat meditatively, head resting on his fists. He seemed to be mentally preparing himself for what was to come.

"I don't really want to do this," Admas submitted but the man-bat shook his head.

"Go ahead, Dr. Adams. I'm not afraid. It's just words."

Lights flickered on above the two, and they faced one another across a table. The Joker stood between them, like a referee. Adams was lighting another cigarette.

"That's the spirit, Batman!" Joker heralded, his voice high pitched, mimicking a fangirl.

He was grinning with delight, his grin evil and dark.

"Sticks and stones. I like a man who can take the pressure!"

Batman and Adams faced each other, Adams taking his cigarette from his mouth. Batman sat stiffly, head slightly bowed, hands clasped on the table. He still looked ready to throw a punch. Maybe more so now, Steve thought.

"Mother." Adams stated.

Cigarette smoke raised lazily into the air. Batman brought his fists up to his chin, looking straight at Adams, appearing to Steve, to try to show no emotion.

"Ah. Pearl."

"Handle."

"Revolver."

"Gun."

Batman appeared lost in himself for a heartbeat.

"Father."

"Father?"

"Death."

Adams looked frightened, Steve knew the man was trying desperately to end the game.

"End."

Batman's expression crumbled, he looked like a lost child for a moment.

"Stop."

The lights flickered over their table, Batman's head is bowed, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Stop…"

Adams took a long, nervous drag from his cigarette and shot Batman a pitying apologetic glance. The Joker exploded into hysterical, maniacal laughter, his grin malicious.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

It's eleven o'clock now.

"It's getting late…" The Joker mewled.

Adams and Cavendish now stood side by side, Adams looking worried, while Cavendish looked just as subtly greedy as the rest of the inmates.

He's losing it.

"Adam." Dr. Arkham hummed quietly.

Adam nodded and pulled Harvey off the floor and into another room. The man turned briefly and Steve let out a quiet hiss as he spotted the reason he was called 'two-face'.

Dr. Arkham's eyes turned to him and then back to the door Harvey exited.

"Yes, Harvey is a bit two-sided. But he is quite lovely when he is lucid, I assure you. He just has yet to be since Adam has… taken over."

She looked thoughtful for a moment. She turned to him.

"Excuse me, Captain. Meet me in the attic at twelve. Joker will show you the way, won't you dear?" Her eyes turned toward the 'Clown Prince of Crime'.

"YEASSSSS, doc-tor."

Steve nodded and she walked through the doorway, switching her pen to her ear and taking the one behind her ear instead, twiddling it between two fingers. He had almost forgotten that she was beside him, his soulmate.

Batman looked at the Joker from the hostages. "What is your game, Joker?"

The Joker grinned, "Who's to say it's my game?"

"It's always your game."

The Joker shook a finger at him, "Not this time, but if you want one, I'll give you one."

He was silent for a moment, the first time since they had stepped into the room. He spoke up as a masculine scream pierced the air, "Time for more entertainment?"

"Well. If you're feeling up to it." Joker purred.

"Up to what?" Batman asked sternly.

Steve had inched closer to the door where Dr. Arkham had exited, the scream echoing back to his ear. Harvey was… giggling down the hall.

"A nice little game of hide and seek. You have one hour, sweetheart, and there's no way out of this building. One hour before all your friends come looking for you and Stripey over there."

The Joker walked around Batman, continuing to taunt him, trying to psych him out. He blew the masked crusader a kiss.

"There's the Scarecrow, and Clayface, and Doctor Destiny, of course. He seems so frail in the wheelchair, but all he has to do is look at you and you stop being real. He does so want to look at you, darling." Joker mewled.

The Joker stopped in front of batman, grinning in his face and flipping his hand in a dismissive gesture. Batman appeared confused, disoriented, and a little worried, but he was clearly trying to maintain his iron facade.

"Oh and let's not forget Sharky, our own creation. He came out of that damp, dark cellar this morning, dragging his chains behind him. They all want to see you, so why don't you just run along now?"

"I don't take orders from you," Batman growled.

Steve watched as the Joker picked up a pistol from the table, it had clearly belonged to one of the guards. He waved it around as he began to muse.

"Well, this guy goes into the hospital, okay?... His wife's just had a baby and he can't wait to see them both. So he meets the doctor and he says, 'Oh, Doc, I've been so worried, how are they?"

He walked over to the standing tear stained guard. He regaled everyone with his joke, but it seems more for himself than anyone else.

"And the doctor smiles and says, 'They're fine. Just fine. Your wife's been delivered of a healthy baby boy and they're both in tip-top form. You're one lucky guy.'"

He paused, touching the muzzle of the gun to the guard's forehead. He's already dead, but he appears to cry anew.

"So the guy rushes into the maternity ward with his flowers. But it's empty, his wife's bed is empty."

More screaming came from the hall.

"'Doc?' he says and turns around and the doctor and all the nurses wave their arms and scream in his face." The Joker was screeching hysterically, utterly insane and terrifying. He waved his free hand wildly in the air and fired the pistol at the two of them.

"April fools! Your Wife's dead and the baby's a spastic!"

The security man collapsed against his ropes that still managed to hold him up. Smoke rises from his forehead, and blood flowed down his face. The Joker looked down at the definitely dead man with gleeful joy.

"Get it?" The Joker spewed, raising his hand to his face and raising his eyes heavenward. The gun was smoking in his other hand.

"Oh, what a senseless waste of human life!" He cried.

He turned to them, staring at Batman. Strands of green hair flopped across his dead white features. Sweat beat down on his brow. He looked dangerous and frightening.

Loki was suddenly looking a lot better. A lot saner, and far more reasonable.

"Now, Batman… And friend." He added as an afterthought.

"Have fun!"

Suddenly, the Joker and several of his goons vanished from the room, leaving them with the Hostages and a lot of the inmates. The inmates paid them no mind.

"Leave!" he shouted at them, but the doctors shook their heads.

"Who will take care of them if we leave? We take our jobs seriously, but we will stay out of your way." One of them stated and Steve sighed.

"Then wait outside by the gate to make sure you don't get hurt."

They left the room after agreeing, and Steve made his way toward the hall. Batman stopped him.

"Dr. Arkham is one of them, she is here for a reason, and not just because this is her family home. She killed ninety four people in the past four years before we figured out who was doing it. She might appear civil, but she is a killer, just like everyone here. Only she's far more intelligent than most of the other inmates." The man-bat explained carefully, probably having noticed how Steve had responded to her.

A man remained standing in the room, a clipboard in his hands, where he scribbled intently onto paper. He wore a lab coat and his black hair was slicked back against his neck and out of his face, with a pair of glasses perched on his nose, his brown eyes staring down at the paper.

"Who is he?" Steve asked Batman and the vigilante sighed.

"He is Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, Dr. Arkham's , Louisa's, uncle."

Steve was silent for a moment, turning briefly to the door when the screams cut abruptly off and Harvey was silenced.

A moment later, the squeak of 's tennis shoes were heard and soft words streamed back to his ear.

"Harvey, dear, let's get you back to your room while I get your coin. You'd like that, wouldn't you? To have your coin back?" She asked and another giggle was heard.

The squeaking drifted further away from him and he looked back toward Batman only to find him gone from the room. He approached the older Dr. Arkham.

"Dr. Arkham?"

Jeremiah looked up at him as he stepped closer, "Yes, Mr. Rogers?"

"Who is your niece?"

Jeremiah's eyes narrowed with suspicion, but his eyes appeared cloudy with something unidentifiable.

"Louisa, you've already met her. Do you experience memory issues often?"

Steve shook his head, but the doctor had already turned back to his notes. Steve walked around him, not missing the what appeared to be blueprints of another building. He left the man alone, walking around the asylum.

"Who's to say it's my game?" The Joker's voice pooled into his mind and as he glanced around at the party decorations and thought back to the sly grin his soulmate had sent him…

He was not concerned with the inmates anymore, Steve was convinced that Louisa was in much more control than anyone could guess. And as soon as she had spoken to him, his main concern became her.

He didn't believe Batman, there was no way she could be anywhere near as bad as someone as demented as the Joker or the others. She was so calm, so… civil.

She might appear civil, but she is a killer, just like everyone here.

Steve stilled, doubt sweeping through him, cutting off his former thoughts. She was in here for a reason, he had to remember that. He was in here for a reason to, and even though it had escaped him then, he knew he had to occupy himself with tracking down the inmates.


	3. Part One, Chapter Three

An hour later, Harriet stood in front of her closet doors, musing over which gown she would wear to meet the first of her soulmates. The pink, maybe? Or the black?

God, the pink had shoulder pads and was patent leather! What was she thinking? The black it is.

She tossed off her lab coat and slid on the short black silk dress, zipping it up along her side with a wry smile. She turned in front of her mirror, beaming when she saw how the backless dress made her skin look.

The 'v' neckline added to the lure, making her smaller breasts look decently sized. She had gotten rid of the sneakers for her favorite heels, the ones she last used to put an end to someone who caused her trouble. They were black and strappy and made her ass look amazing.

She glanced down at her hands, which were slightly pink with Adam's washed blood. She disregarded it.

She tossed on her lab coat and made her way to the living area of the attic she had made her own, the lab being cordoned off by a mirrored wall that she kept firmly shut. Her closet was kept in her bedroom, her bed covering the wall, and she clicked her heels into the den, grabbing her favorite wine and sipping it casually as she waited for her heroic soulmate.

The slamming of cell doors rang in her ears and the walls, putting her mind at ease.

She had never thought that her soulmate would be a hero when she was younger, back when she was still Harriet instead of Louisa. To be honest, she had doubted that she would have a soulmate at all. Her soul marks had not appeared until she turned eighteen in the spring of 1917 in March, while her second marks came in the summer of 1918 in July, a week before she was ripped away from that life.

She knew by that time what she would need to do to sustain her life.

She was one of the earliest mutants in recorded history, not that anyone else knew. It seemed her whole family carried the active X-gene, their 'gifts' driving them mad in a world where they were not accepted.

Her father had the ability to break into someone's mind and re-shape it- a gift which he had turned in on itself when his mother died. He thought that she had killed herself, Harriet later finding out that he had slit her throat open instead and erased his own memory.

Constance, her mother, was a gifted psychic, she could see visions of the future and the past when she chose it- though she never told Harriet's father about it.

Harriet had only discovered it when she found her mother's diary the night before she, herself, died.

Harriet herself… her gifts were complicated. She had abilities dealing with the mind like her parents, only her's were startlingly powerful. They had given her nightmares as a child- nightmares of her ancestors and their lost souls, lost to madness- nearly destroying her own mind.

Her father had healed her- and in that touch he had given her his own power. It seemed that whenever she was touched by someone's gifts, she could make them her own.

She had never known who had given her what- at that time her family had been larger.

Harriet was certain that she had been the catalyst for their consumptions. Her own ability, at it's core, could activate the mutant X-gene in anyone she touched.

As she thought of her soulmate she found herself wondering what his mutation would be… something to aid him in his heroics, she was sure.

A flash invaded her mind and she tightened her hold on the wine glass.

She had come home for a break from school only to discover her father deranged and raving on and on about the house and how it was cursed.

He was right, she knew.

She had dreamed of this, and she knew her life was soon to end.

He would kill her the next evening before trying to kill himself. He would not succeed on his own part.

And so Harriet focused on shifting her consciousness into her treasured locket, a necklace she would pass down to her cousin Lisette, thereby becoming her. She passed on her treasured memories, her hopes, her thoughts, her horrific conclusions, and most importantly, her abilities.

She had already known that Lisette would make a perfect host, as her own abilities would only amplify her own.

She traced her marks through her nightgown. Her hand playing along the words inscribed on her thigh. She was scared to die, well and truly scared.

She didn't want to die, she didn't want this. She didn't want this!

But it didn't matter, and the next night, she cried as she felt her own blood leave her body, watching as her father tried to kill himself by the window with the dreaded pearl handled knife as her life slipped away.

God, help her.

Harriet sipped her drink slowly, blinking away her tears as her eyes watered. Her hand traced her leg over her dress where her marks had moved to rest a little further up, closer to her hip.

She sighed and refilled her glass. Briefly, her hand touched the locket that was little more than a necklace now.

Raucous, demented laughter streamed in from the hall and she heard heavy footsteps follow the Joker to her door.

It was a heavy metal door, like the other cell doors, but this one only she had the key for. With a wave of her hand the door slid open before he could knock.

Harriet crossed her legs in her seat, looking up at the door with a slight smile. Steve stood alone in the door, the laughter trailing back down the hall, his hand raised to knock.

"Coming in?" She teased.

He swallowed and entered her… cell? It certainly was homier than the others he had seen when locking away some of the inmates. He was a little worse for wear, his suit slashed open in some places, revealing freshly healed skin to the air. Steve walked closer to her in her place on the couch.

Her long legs were crossed and she held a wine glass in her hand that she sipped from as her eyes traced his form. She bounced her upper leg slightly, and his eyes traced over her heels and up her leg and up further to her torso. Her dress was short and revealing, and if he had been fresh out of the ice he would have been shocked.

Louisa stood up, still having to look up to look him in the eye. Her jade eyes grew warmer and she smiled at him wider than before. He found himself smiling slightly back in response and she waved a hand over the sitting area.

"Please, take a seat. Wine?" she asked, stepping around him and over to a small kitchen on the other side of the room.

"...No thanks." he passed up and she didn't drop her smile, giving a slight shrug as she still pulled out another glass.

"Water then?" she offered and he found himself nodding, giving into the part of himself that wanted to please her.

She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and uncapped it, pouring it into the glass. He sat down with his back to the window, taking in the scene as she topped off her wine glass.

The room was comfortably arranged, with a long 'L' sofa faced away from the door and window where a bench sat. There was a low table in between the couch and two leather chairs, a flat screen TV placed on the wall above a fireplace that looked like it hadn't been used in years.

Beside the kitchen there were two doors and a wall with a painting of a family behind a dining table. The table was metal and bolted down to the floor and the benches were old wood, also bolted down. The painting had a long slash through it that had been taped up, and Steve turned his gaze back to the fireplace where beside, another door was placed.

Louisa appeared at his side- he hadn't seen her arrive.

She had followed his gaze.

"My bedroom." She mentioned off handedly, handing him his water.

He sniffed it slightly, not wanting to attract her attention. He didn't trust her, but he didn't want her to know it. That tended to put things at a bad start.

She pointed at the door beside the fridge, "The bathroom,"

Then the next door beside the painting, "Jeremiah's room."

"Jeremiah stays here with you?" He asked her and she laughed slightly.

"Of course, this was and is the Arkham family's quarters. It was made so when Amadeus Arkham decided to renovate the estate and turn it into a hospital named after Elizabeth- his mother." she rolled the words on her tongue, like it was rehearsed to perfection.

It probably was- she seemed to come from a wealthy family, if they must have owned such a large estate. He thought it was a little ostentatious-

"Oh it is, quite, actually. But then again just because you have money does not necessarily mean you have taste." Louisa purred beside him on the couch, her free hand unclipping her hair, freeing it from it's bun.

It fell down in curly tresses, flowing down to her waist. With her aristocratic features, it made her look like royalty.

"How did you-?" Steve asked her, cutting himself off when she turned her green gaze on him.

She tapped her temple, sipping from her glass after she dropped her hand.

"I'm just special like that, though if you want to know the particulars…" Louisa trailed off and he heard Sam speak up over the com.

"I'd like to know the particulars. What's she doing, Cap?" Sam asked.

Steve kept his stare on her and she sighed, turning away.

"Your friend is welcome to come in, Captain. I don't bite. Much."

Her voice was calm and collected but did he detect a hint of disappointment? He let out a breath, tapping the com in his ear.

"You can come in Sam. We're in the attic."

At his words, the latch on the attic window slid open and a cold breeze filled the air. Sam appeared next, sliding in, his boots landing on the wooden floors and avoiding the cloth bench completely.

Louisa slid a hand over her dress' skirt and stood, heading towards the kitchen. She placed the wine glass in the sink and made for the liquor cabinet in the dining area. Once there, she grabbed a glass and poured an amber colored liquid into the glass.

His eyes caught on the metal pen behind her ear, like before, and he got the feeling, like always.

Sam stood awkwardly in front of the window and she sighed, turning to glance at him over her shoulder. She pointed a finger toward the couch.

"Make yourself comfortable, it is unlikely any of my fellows will come in. Jeremiah can't seem to sleep anymore, so we shouldn't hear from him either." She lilted, her voice dragging.

Sam looked at Steve and Steve nodded. Sam walked around and sat beside Steve, closer to the arm of the couch with his back facing the wall. Louisa drew his attention, her hand cradling her glass behind the couch.

"I wonder…" She trailed, "What made you two decide to come to the asylum? Surely, you must have known that it wouldn't be truly necessary with 'Batty Crocker' here."

"'Batty Crocker'?" Sam asked and Steve waved him off.

Louisa alluded, "Just restating Joker's nickname. He comes up with such fascinating names. I enjoyed having him as a patient here, though no one else did, I believe. Never had a dull moment with him around, still never do."

"You're right, no one else likes him." Steve stated his opinion and everyone else's.

Her words completely disregarded the clown's actions and his victims. She made him out to be a source of amusement instead of a psychopathic serial killer, which he was. Steve didn't like how flippant his soulmate was toward the clown, not in the least.

She briefly narrowed her eyes slightly at him, so slightly that he didn't think she noticed. Louisa sipped her glass for a moment.

"You didn't answer my question; why is it that you are really here? And don't tell me Gotham was just a resting spot on your travels, because no one, not even passersby would stop for a rest stop in this city."

Sam looked to Steve before answering, but even as the other man spoke, Louisa did not look away from Captain America.

"The inmates wanted him here, requested it even."

Louisa sighed, "Darling, the inmates have requested many a hero previously, but no one besides the bat is ever brave or stupid enough to."

Steve's lips pursed slightly at her words, what did she have up her sleeve?

"Oh, many things. A lady always has a card or more up her sleeve, and in her bra, and down her stockings…" she mused, sipping again at her whiskey.

Heavy steps and the sound of jangling chains drew their attention, the bearer of those chains drawing closer and closer to the apartment.

Louisa did not appear concerned however.

Steve and Sam grew tense and stood as the heavy metal door to the apartment was ripped away from the wall and tossed through the window more than twelve feet away.

Louisa sighed and stood, not shaken in the slightest.

Steve hadn't realized it, but he had moved to place her behind him, putting him facing the door and the… beast that appeared.

The creature was malformed with gills and fins sticking out of what had clearly once been a man. He stepped into the apartment, dragging large, bulbous chains behind him, the jangling turning to a scream against the wood floors.

He wore a tight orange jumpsuit that dripped water all over the floor, even though he had supposedly been wandering around for the whole day away from his cell.

"I am a Shark." He uttered, his voice low and gravelly.

Steve heard Louisa swallow down the rest of her drink in one go before she replied.

"Sharky, dear, my guests are not food. Though give it about ten more minutes and you'll have fresh food in the east lower wing." Louisa supplied and the… creature grinned with sharp pointed layers of teeth.

He appeared happy with her response and made to turn around, giving only one more reply of thanks.

"I am a Shark."

He squeezed himself back through the door and left, his chains dragging back down through the halls.

Steve and Sam both let out a breath. The sound of metal rising from the broken bench by the window drew their attention and the door flew back into place in the entry, the walls knitting back as if the house was healing itself.

Steve turned to Louisa with widening eyes.

"What?" she said, "I am definitely not the strangest being here, as you can see, and definitely not the only one with special abilities of my own. You clearly have not met our friendly botanist."

She paused, "Maybe she would make a better gardener than the last."

She looked up and placed her glass on the low sitting table in front of the couch.

Louisa walked to the door, "Come along, I'm sure Pamela would love to meet you two. I think she will quite like what I have to offer her."

They followed her through the halls, Sam following behind Steve as they walked down several flights of stairs to the ground level and down another flight to the basement where they walked for some time till they came upon a pair of doors.

Louisa threw them open and entered, her heels clicking confidently on the concrete as they walked into a glass walled garden that was easily as tall as the building and about a quarter of the size.

Louisa caught the look Steve sent her.

"Pamela wanted the best for her plants. I was inclined to give it to her, and Jeremiah agreed, and it was only too easy to get the declining administrator to agree."

"Cavendish?" he asked her and she nodded.

"This place is poison to all healthy minds, to all who think themselves to well off to give into madness. Cavendish was one of many. Though I fear he is not already a patient. Soon, however." She mused softly, guiding them to the back for a few minutes till they came to a center of the large garden.

A monstrous flower sat in the center and at the sound of Louisa's heels, it began to open as they drew nearer.

A woman, her flesh tinted green, appeared in the center of the flower. Barefooted, she stepped down onto the flower's soil and then onto the harder pavement. Her body was covered minimally by a burgundy silk blouse and matching underwear, her red hair flowing freely in the air.

"Hello," She purred, meeting them halfway.

Louisa tilted her head over her shoulder to look at Steve in the corner of her eyes.

"Boys, this is my dear friend Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley. Otherwise known as Poison Ivy, be forewarned, her kiss is quite deadly."

Pamela pouted, "Louisa, darling, you'll ruin all my fun."

Louisa laughed, "We both know your idea of fun is momentary at best."

Pamela gave a soft smile and Steve felt Sam's breath quicken beside him. The air felt heavier, warmer, and it smelled alluringly sweet.

Steve traced the smell back to the women, and he guessed that it must have originated from Pamela, since Louisa had not shown any sign of it previously.

His own senses were getting hazier, but they sharpened when he felt Louisa wrap her hand around his and guide him closer to the green woman.

She did not release his hand as she leaned forward and whispered into Pamela's ear. He didn't catch what she said, too distracted by the way her touch lit his skin on fire to notice the wry smile Pamela sported at Louisa's words.

The green woman ran a hand down Louisa's neck, and Steve suddenly felt the fire go straight where he didn't want it to go.

It was all consuming and he pulled Louisa back against him, her body crashing softly against his. He felt her breath pick up before she turned around, her jade eyes looking up at him with heat.

"Steve?" Sam asked, appearing to try and shake his head, but all his qualms seemed to slide away from him as the red-headed woman appeared in front of him, seemingly out of thin air.

"Shhh…" Pamela crooned, grabbing hold of his hand and dragging him away, into the jungle that surrounded them.

The air seemed to cool slightly, but it did nothing to tame the fire, and he felt Louisa shiver against him. Her gaze looked desperate and his hand slipped away from her's to sit against her waist.

He leaned down and she touched her lips against his. That first touch sparked his desire further and the kiss became rougher, more needful. She lightly nipped at his lips and he opened himself to her, their tongues dancing for dominance.

Steve hadn't been with anyone since Bucky fell off the train so long ago, and he found himself giving into her, wrapping his arms around her, her own sliding up his chest to encompass his neck, pulling him flush against her body.

She let out a breathy moan and he lifted her up, supporting her lower body as she rocked herself against him, causing him to release a groan.

He blinked and they were suddenly back in the apartment; her bedroom this time. She didn't give him any time to think much of it, pulling him to the bed till he fell over her, catching himself with an arm over her shoulder.

Louisa's warm breath teased the flesh along his throat, she nipped and teased, her lips hot against his skin.

His other hand pulled them up slightly, ridding her of the white lab coat she wore constantly and pulling down the zipper to her dress, Louisa sliding the silk over her head and revealing her body to his blue eyes.


	4. Part One, Chapter Four

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has faved, followed, and reviewed! Please Fave, Follow, and (!) Review (!).

Harriet released a heavy breath as she felt his eyes run over her body. She pouted up at him.

"Don't leave me hanging, Captain. I'm not the patient sort."

She removed the helmet he wore easily, tracing her eyes over his suit, looking for how to get him out of it. He kissed a trail down her neck and over her collarbone, distracting her momentarily.

She was not one to be distracted for long, however, and moved her hands around her broader soul mate and onto his back, her fingers searching for… Aha!

She pulled the suit apart along the hidden seam that allowed him to slip in and out of the armoured suit. He stepped back momentarily, pulling the suit off his torso, letting it hang over his legs as he resumed his efforts to distract her.

Harriet let out a soft laugh.

He pulled her panties down her legs, the lace smooth against her goosebumped flesh. Her breath picked up again, and her nails bit into his skin lightly, drawing him closer to her till her naked chest was colliding with his.

Harriet wanted him closer, she wanted him within her. She wanted him to make her his.

Their lips met again and again, drawing moans from Harriet's mouth and groans from his own.

Not enough. Not nearly.

A flash of another man, a different time. His skin was tan like her current lover, but his eyes were a warm brown that showed his passion for her off to the world. She loved him, but she had let him go… knowing that he was not really her own like she wanted him to be.

Harriet sighed against his lips, the memory slipping away from her.

It was a recurring memory of her's; one that kept coming back to haunt her.

She focused in on her current reality, giving herself up to her desires. She pulled away from him pulling at his suit more till he picked up on her want.

Want, need, semantics.

He quickly got rid of the rest of his clothing and it all fell to the floor with a thump before he rejoined her.

They met eyes for a moment.

The blue in his seemed warm, desperate, but most of all overwhelmed. She knew her own were warm and desperate as well, but Harriet was never one to be overwhelmed, even in the heat of a moment.

No, she prided herself on her control over her mind.

She bit her lip softly and his eyes followed the movement before he kissed her again, his hands wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer and closer till she was forced to wrap her legs over his and rest her heated entrance over his manhood.

Harriet smiled against his lips as she felt him groan, arching her neck to him where he began to trail hot kisses against her own heated flesh. Her body felt sensitive and hot and lusty. She rocked her dampening sex against his, desperate for friction, even as her mind desired a prolonged experience.

Steve let out a groan against her collarbone as she picked up her rocking, and Harriet let out a sigh, falling against the bed and dragging him down with her till she got the opportunity to flip them over.

When she did, she clearly surprised him with her strength and she began to trail her lips down his throat and over his chest and onto his abs, moving lower and lower till she placed a kiss on the head of his cock. He unwillingly bucked closer to her and she took the chance to wrap her lips around him and take him in her mouth, his length filling her till it was almost uncomfortable.

Harriet counted her blessings that she didn't have a gag reflex, because she would be so disappointed if she did.

His hands wrapped themselves in her white blonde curls, bobbing her up and down slightly as she licked along the bottom of his cock. She gave a soft suck on his head and he froze up, relaxing as he released a groan into the air.

She let out a moan of her own at his taste against her tongue, the vibrations seeming to make him harder, his grip tightening in her hair.

She bobbed her head several times, licking, sucking, and teasing him until he grew tired of it and pulled her up and away, where his lips met her own once more.

Harriet slid up his body and wrapped her knees over each of his legs till she was comfortable with their position, her hand slowly crawling down his stomach till she wrapped it around his length, guiding it to her entrance.

His eyes widened as he watched her rise up slightly and slide herself down over him, her wet heat taking all of him inside her.

They both let out a moan at the feeling of being that close to one another, Steve's hands finding her hips, encompassing and forcing her to pick up the pace.

She felt his fingers trace along the slightly raised lettering that made up her first set of words, his thumb tracing along the second almost unconsciously.

She rolled her hips against his, giving a slight bounce as she rose up and down his length, her head thrown back, her spine arching as her lips made a soft 'O'. Steve stared up at Louisa, releasing a groan as he felt her lower lips slide up and down over his cock.

She was beautiful, almost radiant as she rocked against him, and he sat up, using his hand to pull her face to his and taking her mouth, his tongue teasing her own. She let out a soft purr and he gave a wry grin that turned to a shudder when she withdrew till only his head was within her folds before collapsing back down to encompass him all the way.

She nipped lightly at his lower lip and he resumed his kissing, growing more and more frantic as he drew closer to his end.

Harriet eagerly gave the control over to him with a moan and he flipped their positions, his thrusts strong, heavy, and fast. Her nails bit deep into his back, drawing blood, but Steve didn't notice, too consumed with the feeling of her wet heat surrounding him.

He looked down at her, her soft curls fanned out beneath her head. Her almond shaped eyes kept their warmth, revealing more desire that seemed to grow and grow as she met his eyes. It struck him how clever her eyes looked, how she seemed to somehow still remain in control, even as she was pressed down into the mattress as he drove himself into her.

She sent him a smile, arching up to attach her lips to his, before trailing them down his jaw and throat tantalizingly, nipping and sucking and driving him insane as he grew more desperate to make her come when he did and he leaned back; picking up one of her legs- the one with her soulmarks- and changing the pace.

It became slower, but her eyes began to look hazy as he rolled his hips to meet her's, entering her at a newer angle, and by the change in her breath, a much more pleasurable one for her.

He sped up, a wry grin making its way onto his face as he heard her release a breathy moan.

They went at it for what seemed like hours, and if he was honest, Steve wasn't sure that it hadn't been hours before she commanded him.

"Harder." She breathed.

He agreed and his thrusts picked up again, slamming into her quickly, drawing them both closer to their ends.

He hit something inside her and she let out another moan, harsher than before.

He liked that sound- it was breathy and desperate and primal and so… her.

He didn't even ponder how he came to that conclusion before he began to come, releasing inside of her as his thrusts became erratic, seeming to spur her on, her end causing her heat to squeeze him and push his on for longer.

He collapsed against her, rolling onto his side and pulling her over to lie cradled against his chest. She purred against him, trailing her lips over his chest lightly- almost sweetly.


	5. Part One, Chapter Five

A/N: Thank you to everyone who had responded back to my story! Leave your questions in the reviews under accounts and I will PM you your answers! Please FAVE, FOLLOW, and (!) REVIEW (!)

Harriet brushed her lips over his warm skin lightly until she felt Steve slip away into sleep. Certain he was well and out for long enough, she stood from the bed and threw her dress back on, zipping it up and slipping on a pair of flats, stopping by her bureau on her way to the door.

She reached into the third drawer down and removed the false bottom. Peering over her shoulder at her sleeping soulmate, she almost smiled at the picture. Hair mussed and totally relaxed, she would make sure to lock the door to her room and the cell to be sure that none of the other inmates took advantage.

Harriet withdrew the pearl handled knife that had haunted her nightmares since she had first died so long ago. It gleamed in the moonlight that poured through the window in her room.

Quietly sighing, she slipped from the room and nimbly locked the door without sound, drifting out of her apartment and into the corridors of the Asylum.

Lamenting her forgotten coat, she crept through the empty halls like a ghost- not too far from the truth. In her right hand she carried the dreaded blade, in her left; her trusted scalpel.

Her God and her dear Devil.

Harriet came to a grandfather clock, a floor above Destiny's cell. She knocked thrice, then once more, turning the hands of the clock to three and four o'clock. The clock slides to the side, providing her with a narrow opening to the room that belonged to Elizabeth, her grandmother.

Harriet was alone for a moment, before a shadow fell over her. She placed her scalpel down on the bedside table, turning to the figure in the doorway.

It was Cavendish, but he wore the dress that Adam had worn before she killed him. It had been her grandmother's, and now it was speckled and drowned in the blood of the incompetent doctor.

Cavendish wore a deranged grin on his still clown-painted features. It was sinister, but no more sinister than the soft smile she sent him.

She gazed to his hand, where he held a woman- a doctor who had hidden herself away in the Asylum to wait out the madness.

Arkham Asylum is a hungry beast and it fed upon the madness it so reaped.

The woman is terrified and sobbing, crying for Cavendish to release her. It was Ruth Adams, Adam's wife.

"Please, Dr. Arkham!" she cried out desperate for the blonde woman's aid.

Harriet smiled at her. It was a soft smile, a smile that said she was so sorry, that she knew what awaited the hysterical brunette.

Ruth cried harder now and Harriet approached the two, turning her smile to Cavendish.

Cavendish took a seat on the chair by the bed, dragging Ruth onto the mattress where he held her by her throat. The woman now wore his previous clown suit and she appeared two steps away from her grave she was so frightened.

"I'm so glad that you're one of us now, darling. I think you'll find that it is quite freeing…"

Harriet trailed off, passing the bloody brideman, handing off the pearl handled blade as she stepped into the shadows and the far wall was kicked in.

Batman.

Steve woke up as he heard a bang come from the floor below, jumping from the bed to find Louisa gone. He threw on his suit, glad to find his shield lying on the far chair, when it had gotten there, he didn't know.

He ran to the door, breaking the lock and slipping away to the front of the apartment, busting open the cell door's window and pulling it open from the outside.

Where was she?

Steve made his way down the halls and down a set of stairs to a hole in the wall. He looked down at the opposite end to see Sam stumble up the stairs and into the hall in a daze.

"Steve?" Sam mumbled, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Sam? Are you okay?"

"I had a dream… It was a good dream, but it's slipping away…" Sam collapsed against the wall, his suit banging against the wainscotting.

Steve kneeled beside his friend, checking his pulse. Sam blinked dazedly up at him.

"I'll be fine, Mom." he mumbled softly and Steve stood back up, making his way back to the hole in the wall.

He'd have to finish this up quickly. Sam needed a doctor.

"You freed the inmates. You allowed this to happen. Why Cavendish?"

Batman words greeted him as he entered, his eyes casting to the only light in the room, a kerosene lamp lit on the bedside of a four poster bed where a woman dressed in a clown suit was held by the neck against old blood stained sheets and pillows.

Batman was grimacing, he'd appeared to have worked it all out now.

Cavendish held a pearl handled razor up against the woman's throat, the light of the lamp glittering off the shiny pearl. Cavendish, who wore a bloody wedding dress, pointed to the woman's face. A jagged slash spanned over her left cheek, and the woman let out another sob, terrified of what further awaited her. Cavendish looked hot and bothered, but with a feverish excitement that seemed to hang in the air.

"Now listen, I only did what had to be done. Dr. Arkham said I only had to read the book- that one! On the table! And I knew what I had to do."

Dr. Arkham? Louisa? She brought this on?

Batman picked up the leather bound book from the table beside him, keeping his eye on Cavendish.

"Go on!" Cavendish spurred, "It's Amadeus Arkham's journal. Go on. Read it. I've marked the place for you!"

Batman opened the journal about a quarter of the way through. The place was indeed marked by a fresh silk ribbon bookmark. He looked down at the pages and read aloud.

"Read it! You'll see!" Cavendish cried.

"And suddenly, the longed for revelation comes in the form of a memory my mind had suppressed. It is 1906. Trees thrash in the dark under a restless sky. Rain rattles the windows. Why? Why have I come here? 'It's here,' Mother rumbles on and on. 'Mother, please, there is nothing.' I tell her. And why am I so afraid? Beneath the bed, great wings begin to beat. I am not mad. I am not mad. Mother screamed and screamed and screamed. And finally; I see it. I see the thing that has haunted and tormented my poor mother these long years. I see it. And it is a bat. The 'blind death' of folk tradition. A bat!"

"Oh, my poor mother. 'Don't let it take me!' she cries. 'It won't take you,' I promised. 'Don't be afraid, mother,' I tell her. 'I love you.'"

"I understand now what my memory tried to keep from me. Madness is born in the blood. It is my birthright. My inheritance. My destiny. I shall contain the presences that roam these rooms and narrow stairways. I shall surround them with bars and walls and electrified fences and pray they never break free. I am the dragon's bride, the son of the widow. Leather wings enfold me."

Batman finished and looked at Cavendish again. The man's eyes were bright and he pointed at the bat. The deranged bride was like a teacher explaining to a foolish child. There is a kind of delight in revelation. He seems unable to wait for Batman's response to the shattering news.

"You see now?" Cavendish asked, "You understand?"

Steve was helpless to do anything. He had no experience with this type of insanity, this type of derangement. He didn't know what to do, and that frightened him.

Batman gripped the journal tight in his hands, holding onto it like a lifebelt. His eyes were wide beneath the cowl.

"You who've kept this place supplied with poor souls for years. You who've fed this hungry house. Do you see? You are the bat!"

"No," Batman denied, faltering in his steadfastness.

"I… I am just a man."

Eyes staring and mad, Cavendish fanned his fingers in front of his face. They cast a bat shadow across his features.

"I am not fooled by that cheap disguise. I know what you are! Arkham tried to kill his stockbroker in 1929. That's what they finally locked him away for, did you know that? It didn't stop him. He'd read 'the Golden Bough', he'd studied shamanistic practices and he knew that only ritual, only magic could contain the bat. So you know what he did?"

Cavendish's fingers scratched at the air.

"He scratched a binding spell into the floor of his cell. He used his fingernails. Can you imagine that? His fingernails."

Cavendish pointed at the wall they had stepped through. Drawings and notes were tacked over paintings. A plan of the house was contained in the Vesicica Piscis. Tacked onto that, Arkham's own drawing of the interlocked circles with the words 'Vesicica Piscis' written carefully underneath on the same piece of paper the Greek Fish symbol for Christ. Also a diagram showing the phases of the moon, from new, through full, to old. Other pages, torn from books and written over, painted over in some cases.

Steve eyes found Cavendish once again, he was looking more and more deranged with every passing moment. He seemed pleased with himself even though it was plain to see that his logic was skewed. Sweat stood out from his brow.

"But it still wasn't enough. Two years ago, Dr. Arkham showed me this little room, told me to read the journal then too. I just couldn't stop thinking about what Amadeus Arkham had said and I realized it was my destiny to finish what he started."

Cavendish rose, still holding the razor, making quite plain his intent. The woman grabbed his arm, trying to stop him.

"I set a trap for the bat, not without help, you see. I surrounded the asylum with a circle of salt so it couldn't escape again. And now… well…"

"Doctor Cavendish!" the woman cried, "Charles!"

Cavendish knocked the woman back viciously and advanced on Batman. Steve caught sight of the wound in the man bat's side. The cowled vigilante held up a hand as though to ward the crazed man off. Steve inched over to stand between the two, going unnoticed by Cavendish.

"Shut up you ignorant cow!"

"Cavendish, you're sick. You need help." Batman implied and the man turned enraged.

"I'm sick? Have you looked in the mirror lately? Have you?"

Berzerk, the man descended with the blade, thrown off when Steve deflected it with his shield.

Cavendish stepped round Steve, seizing Batman's throat.

"Unnh.." Batman groaned and Cavendish sneered.

"Mommy's. Boy!"

The razor hit the beside table, knocking the metal pen to the floor.

Metal pen? Louisa's pen? Why was it here?

Steve redirected his attention to fight to see Cavendish still raving.

"Mommy's boy! Mommy's boy! Mommy's boy!"

Batman had been dragged onto the bed beside the woman and he looked at her desperately. Cavendish looked ready to throttle the vigilante and the woman grabbed the razor off the bedside table.

"Help me!" Batman cried and Steve stepped in, grabbing the blade from the woman and craned the man's neck back.

He slit the man's throat and blood spattered them all.

He dropped it onto the bed and stepped back, releasing a breath and running a hand over his face where blood had covered his eyes and cheeks.

Batman slid off the bed and dragged the woman away. She was crying again, hysterical and nervous.

"His throat," She mumbled.

"He got what he deserved." Batman defended, "Come on."

He dragged the woman from the room, leaving Steve alone with the cooling body.

Steve flinched when he felt a hand run over his arm.

"You know," Louisa said, "this house is quite poisonous to the mind. I daresay all who have been here go a little mad trying to escape it or burn it to the ground."

The blonde woman- his soulmate- picked up her pen from the floor, picking up the bloody razor as well in her other hand. She looked down at them, her back facing him.

He wanted to see her eyes, he wanted to see what she thought of the situation she had caused.

After a moment, she turned back to him, wiping the razor down with her dress. The black was darker with the blood, and his eyes stayed on the stain for several moments, even as she approached him.

"You… caused this."

"Yes."

"Why?" Good lord, why?

"I was curious to see if anyone would pick up where my father left off. But I suppose no one truly lives up to their predecessor in this world. Makes me thankful I haven't had one." Louisa stated.

Her words were cold, but her tone was warm, musing.

"Your father?"

"Amadeus. I know, I know, I look a little young. But a lady has their ways."

Steve narrowed his eyes at her. He had the distinct feeling she was the reason he was here, the reason Sam was sick and the reason that his world seemed to have taken a turn for the worst.

Her fair features still grounded him however, and he knew he was well and truly damned by how good that left him feeling.

He didn't know what was worse; the fact that she had caused this, or the fact that he somehow cared for her.

He didn't think it was love, not yet at least. But he found himself liking her, even the piece of her that led to the end of what had been an innocent man before meeting her.

Louisa. Was that even her real name?

"No, my name is Harriet. Though Louisa was the original occupant and I will respond to either name."

Occupant? His eyes narrowed at her again, but she didn't seem too troubled by his response.

"I have been… reborn, quite a few times into the bodies of some of my family's descendents. You are welcome to ask me any question you wish, I shall endeavor to answer to the best of my ability, Steve."

God help him, he loved hearing his name on her tongue.

His eyes trailed down to look at her lips, and he was entranced by her genuine smile. She was actually happy to see him, to talk to him- he knew she wanted to get to know him and he loved that feeling.

Other women had tried in the past to wheedle their way to him, trying to get his attention since he had waken up from the ice. Those women (and a few men) had pretended to give a damn, pretended to care about his opinion.

He had the feeling she wouldn't pretend- maybe omit, but not pretend.

He appreciated it to a certain degree, more so than from the SHIELD agents he had talked to in the past who spoke in lies and omitted even the most necessary of details.

"Whose room is this? Why was it walled off?"

She looked around at the room.

"It was my grandmother, Elizabeth's. She is who the asylum is named after. She went mad before I was born, but degenerated severely till my father killed her as you heard.

"As for the why? I suppose he wanted to forget, and it worked for him, for a time at least. My father's ability was so strong that it could even fool himself."

Steve was confused. What ability?

She gave him a soft smile.

"My father had the ability to heal any mind, free it from any pain, heal it from any wound. Of course, it eventually caved in on itself as he himself began to lose control of his perceptions. When I came home from school one year he was raving on and on about how the house was cursed, I couldn't find my mother or sister anywhere and I searched for them everywhere.

"It was only when I discovered his journal that I found out what happened to them. One of his patients, 'Mad Dog' Hawkins, before he was moved to the Asylum, he hunted them down and killed them, not before doing something worse however. And my father, upon discovering them, began to crack then. I read and read and read, trying to find out what happened to their bodies- until I found the cans."

Steve's eyes widened but Harriet seemed calm and collected, like she was regaling him with someone else's horror story.

He didn't want to know what was in the cans- he really didn't- but he could imagine.

"My father had been eating their remains every Sunday for dinner. Of course, since making the discovery I had little time left, so when I decided, rather foolhardy, I might add, to confront him, I wasn't surprised when he attacked me."

She sighed, looking away over his shoulder, her eyes hazy and distant. Like she wasn't really there, but stuck in the past for the moment.

Steve grabbed her hand, not knowing what to do to bring her out of it. She was silent for a few minutes till she looked up to meet his eyes.

Her own were glassy with unshed tears.

"Your friend." she reminded him and he dropped her hand.

He nodded and walked back through the hole in the wall, leaving her alone in the room. Sam was still where he had left him, and Steve was surprised to find Pamela by his side, talking to the bogged down man about the environment and her ideas on the faults of humanity.

Sam for his part looked entranced by her words, nodding along at the appropriate times. Steve approached the two, cautious of the redheaded woman's presence. He felt Harriet pass by him, approaching the two herself. She nodded to Pamela and the green woman sighed, pecking Sam lightly on the lips and leaving them to go back to her garden.

Within moments of her departure, Sam started recovering, his eyes clearing and becoming startled by their presence like he was coming out of a dream.

As soon as he recovered Harriet pinched his ear like an overbearing mother to her son.

"What did I say about Pamela's kiss?"

Sam recoiled, but was unable to remove her nails from his ear.

"That it was… deadly. Oh."

At his words, Harriet sighed and stood back up, startled when she collided slightly with Steve, her back hitting his front.

She quickly stepped aside.

Steve knelt down to Sam and the man looked downright sheepish.

"Can you stand?" Steve held out his hand and Sam took it, pushing up against the wall to stand, his suit scraping the plaster.

Harriet narrowed her eyes but said nothing. After a moment, she turned on her heel and began to walk back down the hall.

"Do you want that drink now?" She called.

Sam shrugged, "I could go for one."

Steve shook his head, "I think we'd better leave."

She stilled at his words, but did not turn around. She craned her head back to look over her shoulder at him. After a moment of silence she nodded, looking back away and continuing back down the hall to the staircase that would lead her away from them and back to her apartment.

"Suit yourself," She assented, leaving them.

"Cap, what are you doing? Isn't that your soulmate?" Sam began, leaning on Steve for support as he continued to recover as they slunk down the hall and a few flights of stairs.

"Yes, but I don't quite know what to think of her. Or at least not knowing that she's the one that led this to happen."

"Cap. Steve. Just be aware you could be screwing yourself over for later if you don't take the time to actually get to know her."

Steve could guess. She was dangerous, clever, and somewhat of an enigma, clearly. He didn't know who she really was, but he wanted to look into it before he met her again.

So they ambled down the corridors and out of the Asylum and back to his car, headed back towards New York.


	6. Part Two, Chapter One

A/N: Here is the first chapter in the second arc to Neccessary Insanity! Let me know what you think in the comments! (Question for this chapter- what is your impression of Harriet from the memories?)  
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Harriet sighed as she slipped back into her apartment, melding the glass back together in the cell door window, sighing once more when she spotted the broken lock to her bedroom door. 

After doing a quick fix, she walked into her room and slid off her flats, unzipping her dress, the silk falling to the floor as she walked into the bathroom. 

Running the bath, she placed the pearl handled blade into the safe in her closet, still playing with her capped scalpel as she slipping into the hot water, the scents of lemon and lavender filling the air with the steam. 

Harriet let out a pleased sigh as she felt her muscles relax and calmness over take her. 

Until a shadow fell over the tub and she looked behind to see a built man hovering over her. 

His brown hair hung in and around his face and his metal arm glowed in the lights of the room. He had grey blue eyes that narrowed on her with suspicion and she gave him a telling smile that played on her lips like a smirk. 

“What can I do for you, Stranger?” she hummed, her back turned on him once more. 

His metal arm seized her from the tub, holding her against the shower stall by the throat. She merely pouted at him in reply, waiting for him to speak. Her hand still grasped the capped scalpel even as it clutched at his to leave her enough room to breathe. 

God, was his arm strong. 

She wasn’t too surprised, she did good work after all. 

“I remember you… You were there with me… You worked on me and told me ‘everything will be fine’ that you would make sure…” he trailed off, his eyebrows scrunched together as if he was trying to pull together the memory. He squeezed down harder and she choked on her breath before prying his metal fingers off of her throat, dropping her back on the floor. 

She took a moment to regain her breath, grabbing the rose colored robe she kept hanging on her closet door. Brushing away the suds, she sighed when the tub began to drain away her bath. 

“You’re her… You’re Elizabeth, they told me you were supposed to be mine to replace what I had lost.”

She sighed and turned back around to face him, her hands tying the robe around her waist. His right hand played along her jaw lightly, forcing her to look up at him in slight confusion. 

If she could, she would have gotten whiplash at the change in emotion from the confused man. 

He frowned down at her, his eyes cloudy, like she wasn’t even there. 

She placed a hand over his on her face and his eyes cleared. 

“What’s your name?”

 

What’s your name, Stranger?

Her words rang throughout his head, her voice the same it had been before, when he had just met her. 

A brunette woman entered the make-shift clinic they had prepared for him. She wore a lab coat and and a pale blue green dress that made her own green eyes stand out against her fair features. 

She smiled at him and approached the table he was perched on, her eyes kind and approachable, but something hinted at cunning beneath the surface.

“What’s your name, Stranger?” She asked, startling him. 

He was surprised, her words marked the skin on his hip, hidden even from the most intrusive of eyes of doctors that had tended to him. There was no way she would have known about them, he was sure. He had glimpsed his own file once or twice; there was no mention of his marks anywhere on the yellowing papers. 

“Well, my name is Elizabeth Arkham, and I will be treating you and enhancing your arm today.” she continued, her voice smooth and alluring. 

The Soldier narrowed his eyes on her, but her own were looking down at the clipboard in her hands, scanning his medical history with precision. Searching for anything that would not please their employers. 

Well, her’s. He wasn’t actually paid to do what he did. Even he acknowledged that, not really believing the lie that what he did was for the better of the world anymore. 

“I… do not have a name.” he spoke softly, but she heard him. 

Her eyes narrowed so slightly that if he hadn’t been as well trained, he would’ve not noticed it. Her form had stilled nearly inhumanly, after a moment she relaxed and sighed. 

“What would you have me call you then?”

He shrugged. It didn’t really matter. He doubted he would be allowed to see her again, and a part of him was infuriated by that. To be denied one of his soulmates, it was a near unbearable thought. 

He quashed the anger and said nothing more. 

She nodded, as if to herself more so than him. 

She began to check him over, telling him everything she was doing and explaining needlessly. He already knew how it all worked. If he did anything so much as move a little too much, he would be shot until he didn’t. Then they would fix him up, and he’d have to go through it all over again. 

Still, her voice was nice to hear. 

It was soft, but lower in pitch than he recalled most women’s being. It was warm and kind and it spoke to him at a primal level and he felt the urge to protect her. 

He grunted to himself. 

Her touch was gentle, spoiling him too much. 

Elizabeth pulled back from his right arm, grabbing the metal left. He could only barely sense her touch through his hand, and for some reason it left him wanting. 

Her fingers played along the metal caps of his fingertips, tapping along the wrist, till she began to knock on the metal sheeting of where his bicep would be. She knocked a total of three times, and he looked at her out of the corner of his eyes, keeping his face towards the wall above the two-way mirrored glass. 

“Three is a wonderful number…” she trailed

“It’s a divine number, one that has lasted thousands of years in hundreds of different forms. You know, it has been said that when one of three is gone, it will reappear when needed.”

He grunted in response. He was not interested in being consoled by the loss of his other soulmate. For all he could remember, he could have killed them himself. 

She leaned closer to him, her fingers gently prodding the scarred tissues on his shoulder as she whispered softly in his ear. 

“There is no one watching. I will tell you when they draw near.”

He looked back at her with narrowed eyes, but her green eyes just teased him in response. 

Should he trust her? Should he risk it?

How did she know?

“I can hear their thoughts, yours. Everyone has thoughts, even if it is just a picture of what they are seeing.” She spoke quietly, as if she didn’t want it to come to light. 

She probably didn’t. They would make her a tool then if they knew. 

He nodded slightly, so slight that he wasn’t sure she spotted it. 

She did and walked around to his back, scanning the spot where the metal connected to his flesh. 

“How much can you feel from your arm? Touch? Do you feel pain when it gets damaged?”

Her voice was louder and he swallowed, opening his mouth to answer her. 

“Touch is at a bare minimum. I only feel pain when the top moves around in my shoulder.”

She nodded, walking back around to look at him in the eyes. 

He liked her eyes- their was something about them that made her seem powerful, dangerous even, but the bite of color pigment made them seem almost seductive. He wanted to see more of them, see all of her emotions race through them. 

He didn’t let himself acknowledge those thoughts, both because she would ‘hear’ them and because he couldn’t bring himself to. 

So the Soldier just sat still as she finished her examination. 

After several minutes she stood back her body obscuring his reflection in the two-way mirror. 

“So, do you have any questions for me?”

He looked at her silently for a moment. 

She blushed, “Oh, on the subject of your arm, I’ll be operating to heighten your sense of touch with it. Of course, it will open the door to being able to feel pain with it, but it still won’t be anything compared to getting hit on your more breakable side.”

Her estimation was accepted with another nod. 

He looked away again, going back to staring above his reflection at the wall above the mirror. 

A flash and he’s lying on a metal table, heavily sedated though it was already wearing off before they even began. Elizabeth is standing above him, her hand holding a scalpel like a pencil while her other was fiddling with an anesthesia mask. 

After a moment, she placed the scalpel capped behind her ear before placing the mask over his nose and mouth, making sure it was sealed well and good. 

She was the only person beside himself in the room this time, and no one was observing. 

Beneath her breath, she hummed a slow melody that he found himself concentrating on as his body became numb. He could feel her vaguely as she sliced into his skin and began to work, but his mind was utterly enthralled by her song, as if he had heard it once before. 

A memory flashed by his mind. 

He was walking out of an alley, a frail blond man at his side. A well-groomed redheaded woman stopped beside the corner entrance to the alley as if waiting for the two of them to pass her. 

She was beautiful, but her green eyes were what lured him in. She smiled at him, and he wanted to say something to her, anything, but the blond man was talking to him, grumbling at him. 

She placed a finger over her lips as if telling him to be quiet, but he was already leaving her behind. He just barely caught her reflection in a store window across the street of her turning into the alley they had just departed. She was humming softly, singing to herself as she walked further away from them. 

He was enchanted by her voice, but it was not directed at anyone in particular. 

Her voice slipped away into the breeze and he found himself missing it as they made their way away from her. 

Then, he was back and he felt his left arm twitch. He blinked his eyes, scanning her features. A grin of victory was on her face, her green eyes utterly engaged in her work. Her humming had stopped momentarily, but she picked it up again with a new tune playing from her lips. 

A shift and he finds himself alone in a room with her. 

Her hair is braided back into a french bun, a normal coat covering her smart skirt and blouse. 

She’s snuck in to see him one last time but she smiles at him sadly as if she knew what awaited them both. 

“We will meet again.” She whispered, stepping forward and kissing his forehead before grabbing her bag and dashing out the door.

Then he finds himself in a hotel room, blood covers his hands and he can’t remember how he got there. 

It doesn’t matter- his handlers will no doubt be there soon. 

He’s used to killing- but never so brutally- never so up close- never to a woman that had clearly not been up to kill him too.

His hands quiver the same, flesh and metal.

He cannot bring himself to look away from his crime. 

Beneath his pants one set of his words burns with a fury and he feels as if he had just killed someone very dear to him.

“What was her name?” He would ask his handlers.

The handlers would see no problem in replying. 

“The target’s name was Elizabeth Arkham, Soldier.”


End file.
